


Sweeter than Heaven and Hotter than Hell

by Mariela



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Complete, Day 2, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, One Shot, Smut, Thominho Week, with a guy that is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariela/pseuds/Mariela
Summary: Thomas meets a boy named Minho in English class. He's never been into guys before, but finds himself with a crush. Is it possible that Minho feels the same? (spoiler: it's possible)-------“So I was thinking, and I’m not trying to insult your intelligence in any way,” Minho said quickly, “would you like help on the next paper?”“Uh,” Thomas replied eloquently. Minho’s tan looked nice in the sunlight. “Like a tutor?”





	Sweeter than Heaven and Hotter than Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm really happy to contribute to this fandom and I hope you enjoy my work. I haven't read the books, so all characterization is based on the movies and fics that I've read so far. This work is all mine so all errors are my own. Also, the title is pulled from Florence & the Machine because she's the best. 
> 
> Comments are much appreciated! I honestly only meant to write around 2000 words so I don't know how this happened.

Thomas typically knew what he wanted and, likewise, what he didn’t. The thought of not knowing, of being confused on his personal outlooks – his _path_ in life – had always made him uneasy.

He had never really wanted, for example, to dance on guys before. Never had Thomas wanted drinks bought for him. He’d never wanted someone to the point of being distracted from academics. 

There had recently been a lot of firsts for Thomas. 

It began this semester. Thomas had walked into his English class – _The American Short Story_ – and sat in the middle rows near the door. On the other side on the room were tall windows. The blinds were open, and Thomas almost shivered as he stared outside, glad to have a break from walking through the January snow. 

He heard a sound to his right and was surprised to find someone sitting directly beside him. People tended to leave seats between themselves and others until it wasn’t an option anymore. And there were plenty of seats available. 

Curious, Thomas discreetly gave the guy a one-over as he pulled things from his backpack. Asian, tall, thick black hair, athletically built. Handsome. Deep red sweater beneath a black North Face, dark jeans and tan Timberlands. 

If Thomas had to choose a word: put-together.

“Am I late?” 

Except being on time, that is. 

Thomas quickly looked up, hoping he hadn’t been caught. The guy wore a friendly smile that made Thomas’s stomach clamp up in an unfamiliar way as the word _handsome_ echoed in his head again.

“No – I mean, yes,” Thomas smiled after glancing at his phone, “but the professor isn’t here yet either.”

“Oh, good.” He ran a hand through his hair to get out the remaining snow. “Have you heard anything about him?”

Thomas always read reviews of professors before registering for a class. He had a 4.0 and wanted to increase his chances of keeping it that way. 

“No,” he lied easily. _Why did I just do that?_

“I heard he’s a tough grader. I’m Minho, by the way.” He looked expectantly at Thomas, smiling again. 

“Thomas,” he got out after a beat. The professor walked in a moment later with apologies about traffic and parking that Thomas heard but didn’t quite catch. 

______

Over the next several classes Thomas grew to like Minho. A lot. The class met twice a week and their professor gave them lots of time to share thoughts with a partner; since Thomas and Minho continued sitting together, they were always partners. After sharing, the conversation naturally flowed in more personal directions. By the third class, Thomas was intrigued. 

“What’s your major?” Minho asked. 

“It’s biology. This class is just an elective for me,” Thomas answered. 

“Oh, shit. That’s cool. So do you even like these stories?”

Thomas thought that the texts they’d read so far were interesting, even enjoyable, but overall unnecessary. 

“They’re not bad. I don’t really think it should be a requirement.” Thomas was satisfied with his answer. “What about you?”

Minho seemed almost shy for a moment, and Thomas took a quick, silent breath at the sight. Then he said,

“My major is English. I love literature. A lot.” He grinned as though Thomas hadn’t just insulted his passion. 

Their professor spoke again before Thomas could apologize. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.

______

From that point on, Thomas listened more carefully to what Minho had to say about their reading assignments. His mind worked so differently than Thomas’s and sometimes made him wonder whether he was reading incorrectly. He was always missing pieces of a story (a metaphor here, an underlying theme there) until Minho pointed them out, pulling things from beneath a surface that Thomas could never quite see past. He admired how Minho’s intelligence peaked in a subject that his never had. 

There was one thing, however, that Thomas did not enjoy about his classmate. The semester was halfway over by the time he admitted it to himself.

Minho made him nervous. 

Like, stupid nervous. It was sometimes difficult to hold eye contact, and no matter how often they spoke, Thomas’s pulse quickened each time; he could feel its rhythm in the base of his throat. When Minho listened to him talk, saying anything remotely stupid was just not an option. 

Minho, on his part, appeared to have none of these problems. He was all smiles for Thomas, unaware of its effect. He’d contributed more to class discussions than Thomas probably had in all his college courses combined – but not in the obnoxious way like some people might. Simply put, Minho exuded an unassuming confidence that Thomas found…

Sexy. 

Thomas didn’t find guys sexy. It was unsettling.

It started as an innocuous thought that was quickly becoming a problem. Minho ran through his mind all the time – when Thomas was at the gym, with friends, doing homework. Once, maybe twice, when he touched himself. No wonder he was so fit. 

He tried looking at other guys on campus to compare the attraction. Thomas had even gone to a few gay bars alone just to see what would happen. More people showed interest than he had anticipated, and Thomas was flattered every time a drink was sent his way. Still, all those nights inevitably ended in going home buzzed but alone because Thomas

Just.

Wasn’t.

Interested. 

He wanted to ask Minho to hang out after class but could never make himself do it. What if Minho was just being friendly because they sat together even though he sat by Thomas first? He might take offense if he thought Thomas was trying to hit on him ( _was_ Thomas trying to hit on him?). After each class Thomas would replay their conversations on a loop in his mind, imagining what he could’ve said and wishing he’d asked anyway. 

______

“Shit,” Thomas muttered after receiving a graded paper back. The semester was nearing its completion; only a few weeks remained before finals. 

“How’d you do?” Minho asked after looked at his own. 

Thomas silently slid his paper over so Minho could see the big red 76. Minho made a sympathetic expression. 

“I’m having a going-away party for my 4.0 if you’re interested in coming,” Thomas commented flatly, feeling a little better when Minho laughed. 

“You’re sure you can’t get an A?”

“Not if I keep this up.” Thomas tapped his pencil absentmindedly as he looked at his paper; it was easier to answer Minho when Thomas wasn’t distracted by his face. “I don’t see how this is so easy for you.”

“You’d be easy for me, too.”

Thomas felt his face become warm as he looked up. “Sorry?”

“I said it could be easy for you, too,” Minho repeated, amused. “What’d you think I said?”

Thomas was about to lie but was interrupted by their teacher. He was grateful for once, praying that Minho wouldn’t bring it up again later. 

After that class, Minho surprised Thomas by walking the same direction for the first time. He didn’t dare question his good fortune. They chatted easily as they walked past buildings and swarms of students. 

Thomas looked down at one point and noticed his shoe was untied so they paused under a tree. When he stood back up, Thomas could’ve sworn that Minho looked nervous. 

“So I was thinking, and I’m not trying to insult your intelligence in any way,” Minho said quickly, “would you like help on the next paper?”

“Uh,” Thomas replied eloquently. Minho’s tan looked nice in the sunlight. “Like a tutor?”

Minho gave a huffed laugh, and Thomas didn’t mean to bite his bottom lip when Minho licked his. _Don’t look stupid._

“Yeah, I mean I know your GPA is really important to you so I just thought, you know-”

“That sounds great!” Thomas tried to keep his smile from spreading into a goofy grin. Not exactly the hang out he wanted to ask for, but this had _potential_. “If you’re sure you have time.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” Minho took out his phone, clicked it a few times and handed it to Thomas. “Here, put in your number and we can figure out when. I’m about to be late for my next class.”

Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about the way their fingers had brushed together.

______

They met up the following Sunday night at the library. Minho called ahead and reserved a study room so they could talk without disturbing anyone. It was the most private time they would spend together since they’d met, which was not lost on Thomas. 

In the hours leading up to their meet time (7 pm, do _not_ be late), Thomas was a bigger wreck than he would ever admit. He had changed shirts at least four times and shoes at least three. He spent much too long debating which cologne to wear (fourteen minutes). He brushed his teeth twice. 

Minho was already there when Thomas arrived with a notebook out, laptop open and smile in place. He looked perfect. Thomas sat across from him at the table. They made some small talk about their day before jumping into editing Thomas’s essay. 

It was hard to pay attention to everything Minho said. He had to repeat himself more than once but fuck it because Thomas couldn’t help it. Once Minho finished reading and making notes, he and Thomas leaned over the table so they could both see the paper as he explained what he wrote. 

Thomas glanced at his face every so often. His focus shifted, sometimes on Minho’s eyelashes, his neck, his jawline, his lips moving. Thomas was sure his face turned red when he imagined how easy it would be to lean just a bit further and kiss his tutor. 

Over an hour later the paper was much improved. He expected Minho to say he had to go, but to his delight they kept talking. It was easy and they made each other laugh a lot. If Thomas had to choose a word: nice. This was really, awfully nice. 

The next time he thought to check his phone, he was shocked to read 11:42 pm. 

“Something wrong?” Minho asked. 

“No – I’ve just got a test tomorrow that I still need to study for,” Thomas said and rolled his eyes, “Kill me.”

Minho laughed and started packing his stuff. “That sucks.”

Thomas sighed as he stood up. It felt good to stretch his legs again. “Seriously, thank you so much for your help. This shit is so over my head sometimes.”

As he spoke, Thomas stretched his arms over his head, feeling his shirt ride up and cool air hit where it exposed his stomach. When he brought his arms down, he thought he saw Minho’s gaze leaving the skin above his jeans. Thomas felt his face heat up, wondering – and if he was honest with himself, hoping. 

______

When Thomas received his paper back two classes later, he couldn’t believe the 96 he saw. 

“This is amazing,” Thomas proclaimed, “you’re amazing.”

Minho grinned at the praise. “I do what I can.”

“Could you help me with the final paper?” Thomas asked. If he got a high-enough grade on the final, the weight would bring him up to an A. “If you’re not too busy, that is. I could pay you if you want-”

“You don’t have to pay me, Thomas. I’m happy to help.”

______

They met again the weekend before the last week of class, this time at a Starbucks. They sat at a table in the corner after getting drinks. Thomas paid for both despite Minho’s protests. 

“It’s the least I can do for your help,” Thomas insisted, leaving no room for arguments. He tried not to think about how it made him feel like they were on a date; butterflies were ravenously gnawing holes in Thomas’s stomach. 

Because it was the final and therefore longer than the other essays, it took them closer to two hours before they were done editing. Unlike their previous meeting, Minho couldn’t stay to talk. Thomas ignored the sinking feeling in his chest as they approached their cars that were parked beside each other.

“So I’ll see you in class Tuesday?” Thomas said when they were about to split paths. 

“Sure thing. See you, Thomas.”

Thomas could barely process the next moment because Minho was _hugging_ him. It was fast, not even long enough for Thomas to return it, and when Minho pulled back he looked worried. 

“I’m so sorry,” Minho said, actually sounding embarrassed for once, “My family was in town this week and we always hug when we say bye so it was just kind of automatic. Sorry if it freaked you out.”

Thomas thought the whole thing was endearing. He couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from his mouth. “It’s fine, man, no big deal.”

At that, Minho put a hand on his heart and sighed for dramatic effect, laughing himself. “Thank god. Some people get super touchy when it comes to personal space.”

 _Our ideas of super touchy aren’t the same_ , Thomas thought as Minho’s phone began ringing. 

“I need to take this,” he said after checking the screen, “see you in class!”

“Have a good one, Minho.”

As Thomas drove, he tried to recall the feeling of the hug, the warmth of those arms. Goosebumps rose along his skin. He felt giddy, turned on and terrified all at once. 

What the hell was he doing?

______

Over the next few days, Thomas was swamped with finals. He didn’t mind because since Starbucks, he and Minho began texting more regularly. Thomas couldn’t really keep a steady conversation going because of school, but Minho was busy too so it worked out. 

The only thing Thomas couldn’t figure out was why. Did Minho genuinely want to be friends? Other than the few times at the bars, Thomas had never flirted with a guy before. Were they flirting or just getting to know each other? He’d never even asked if Minho was seeing anyone. It was never brought up and Thomas would rather stay hopeful. 

The night before their last class, Minho invited Thomas to a house party they were throwing for his roommate’s birthday, Newt. Thomas knew of Newt through previous conversations. He was more than tempted to go, rolling his eyes as he looked at the stack of articles on his desk. 

**Thomas** : _I still have to finish typing the final for tomorrow or I would_

 **Minho** : _For a science major you procrastinate a lot. I thought you were supposed to be more efficient lol_

Thomas laughed. 

**Thomas** : _Talk to me once I graduate and am finding a cure for cancer. What will you be doing??_

**Minho** : _Making the world a more beautiful place bitch!_

Smiling, Thomas typed out _You already do_ and stared at it, thumb hovering over the send button. Was that weird to say? Three minutes passed. Four, five. It was probably weird. Frustrated, Thomas just deleted the sentence, tossed the phone on his bed and turned to his laptop. 

Though his phone continued going off the next few hours, Thomas resisted the urge to check it as he worked (yes, he could turn it on silent, but he liked to think every chime was because of a certain person; it motivated him to finish). Eventually, the laptop was closed, his last assignment complete. Thomas was nearly free to enjoy summer, and this thought alone gave him the energy to take a quick shower before sliding into bed. 

Thomas thought briefly of how his mattress had never been more comfortable when his phone rang. He picked it up, heart thumping just a bit harder when he saw Minho’s name. Why was he calling at 2:37 am? 

He waited for a few bars of his ringtone to play before answering. That way, Thomas could tell himself he could’ve ignored it had he wanted to. 

“Hello?”

“Tommy!” came a voice that was definitely not Minho or even American. “How are you?”

Thomas’s brows rose. “I’m good. Who is this?”

“It’s Newt! I stole Minho’s phone.” He spoke like they shared an inside joke. 

“Oh,” Thomas smiled, relaxing more, “Well happy birthday, Newt.” 

“Thank you – listen, I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow Minho will put on his big boy pants and ask you out proper, alright?”

Thomas lied there with his mouth hanging open. “… _What_?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Newt said, and when he spoke again it was from far away like he was holding his hand over the phone, “He doesn’t even know you’re _interested_ , you twat?”

It wasn’t clear but Thomas thought he heard the words _you’re so dead_. After that, it was only more muffled voices for a few seconds longer and then the call was ended. A text quickly followed. 

**Minho** : _I’m sorry about that_

 **Minho** : _Newt grabbed my damn phone and took off_

 **Minho** : _He likes to be a dumbass_

Thomas had felt a lot in the last few minutes but now didn’t know what to think. Was Newt just giving his friend a hard time? He had to answer on the side of caution, so he didn’t mention Newt’s message. 

**Thomas** : _So that’s why you two are good friends haha_

When there was no reply after ten minutes, Thomas was surprised but not overly alarmed. Minho was at a party, after all. He imagined Newt’s prediction playing out in a variety of ways, a small smile unwavering as he fell asleep. 

______

Newt’s prediction never had a chance to play out, however, because Minho wasn’t in class the next day. He hadn’t spoken to Thomas since the night before, either.

He wondered if he should text Minho – just out of concern? But every time he started to, Thomas erased what he typed because he felt either nosy or desperate. And he didn’t like either of those feelings.

A few days passed. Nothing. Thomas pushed his disappointment away every time he got a call or text from other people. Some of his friends noticed his demeanor and asked about it, letting it go when he said he was just recuperating from the stress of the semester. 

By the time another few days went by, Thomas was admittedly annoyed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. With class over, did Minho not think enough of Thomas to consider at least pursuing a friendship? It seemed like he did before that phone call. 

One week after classes ended, Thomas stared at Minho’s contact information on his phone screen. He contemplated the situation for what felt like ages before finally deleting the number. Thomas was not about to let himself obsess over a guy who might not even be gay. Hell, he didn’t consider _himself_ gay. 

_It’s better like this._

He didn’t believe himself even before the thought was fully formed. 

______

The morning after deleting Minho’s number, Thomas felt better, almost like a fresh start. Yes, part of him still hoped to get a text, but at least the temptation to send a text himself was gone. 

He decided to go to a club that night he’d never been to before called Tempt. While open to everyone, it was no secret that it was most frequented by the gay scene. As he got ready to leave, Thomas felt small jolts of excitement; it was fun to be chased rather than chase. It felt empowering to have the final say in whether he went home with someone, although rejection was not something he’d often faced himself. Until recently, anyway. 

Once inside, Thomas was too ready to forget the name Minho. A number of guys talked to him. First it was Matt – too aggressive. Then Benjamin – very nice but much shorter than Thomas, who didn’t know why but he just didn’t like that. Chris – Thomas actually danced with Chris until Chris’s boyfriend showed up rather angry. Bye, Chris. Tom – ok, Thomas hated to be nitpicky but _Thomas and Tom_? Next. 

Midnight arrived and Thomas was feeling great. He didn’t even care at this point about finding someone for the night, just dancing was satisfying. Having just accepted a drink from Kyle (it was either Kyle or Lyle), Thomas was following him to the to the dance area when someone passing knocked into him, making his Jager bomb spill on them both. 

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said over the music, looking down at the Timberlands he wore and hoping they weren’t ruined. They looked familiar. 

“No I’m sorry, I’ll buy you another one,” an even more familiar voice was saying. Thomas knew it before he looked back up. 

He locked eyes with an equally surprised Minho. Neither said a word, and Thomas wished it wasn’t so hot all the sudden. He saw Kyle waiting impatiently a few paces away in his periphery. 

“Come on, Minho, are you waiting for Christmas to buy him one?” Another guy said that Thomas hadn’t even noticed. He was Minho’s opposite with a slender frame and light hair.

“It’s fine,” Thomas said automatically. 

“It’s not fine,” Kyle had come to his side, the last place Thomas wanted him. “I would appreciate you replacing Thomas’s drink.” 

“ _Thomas_?” Minho’s friend exclaimed, the accent finally clicking into place. _Newt_. 

Newt moved beside Kyle and looked him over. “Why don’t you let me keep you company, darling?” 

Thomas had no idea if Kyle protested as Newt led him away, had no idea whether he was thankful to Newt for leaving them alone. How was Minho somehow more attractive than he remembered? 

“Can we talk?” Minho asked. 

“Yeah,” Thomas paused, testing a smile, “over the drink you promised.”

Minho grinned, and fuck if Thomas didn’t want to kiss him on the spot. “Fair enough.”

They went to a room which had no ceiling where everyone went to smoke. Minho led them to the least occupied spot. Standing by the wall, Thomas found himself still swaying to the music blasting from inside. They looked at each other silently a few moments, Thomas mentally attempting to rebuild the filter he would normally have sober. 

“Are you with that guy?” Minho blurted. 

Thomas shook his head. “I just met him. Are you and Newt…?”

“Oh my god, no,” Minho laughed. Some of the weight left Thomas’s chest. “You look good, by the way.”

Thomas blinked a few times. “Thank you?”

Minho laughed, sounding a bit forced. “I can take it back.”

“Why’d you skip class?” Thomas asked, changing the topic. His curiosity was taking over. 

Minho didn’t answer right away, examining the floor and taking a long sip of his drink. “Why didn’t you text me?”

“Seriously? You’re the one who never answered me,” Thomas frowned and took a drink too. He knew Minho didn’t owe him an explanation but he couldn’t help pressing for one. 

“I liked hanging out with you.”

Minho looked up, mouth open like he was caught off-guard. “You do?”

“Yeah! I mean, I _did_ , until you just disappeared.” A little voice in his head was warning that he was telling too much but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Fuck, I know. I just, I was embarrassed.” Minho looked away again and ran a hand through the back of his hair. _I wish you’d run it through mine_. 

“Why?”

“Because Newt told me what he said to you on the phone and I didn’t think you were gay-”

“I’m not.” Minho looked up at that and Thomas quickly added, “I mean, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about guys really until now.”

Something changed in Minho’s eyes. Thomas felt like he was being analyzed. “Why now?”

Fuck. Thomas glanced around the room as though everyone was listening. Like anyone cared that all he wanted was for Minho to move his thumbs from his belt loops and put them through Thomas’s. 

“I, um,” Thomas faltered. He was so nervous, but he might as well see this through. The worst that could happen was rejection, right? “You’re very attractive. _I_ find you very attractive. And that’s…never happened.” 

His plastic cup was crinkling from how tightly Thomas held it. He downed the rest and set it on the table beside them, waiting for Minho to talk. Or punch him in the face. 

“So,” Minho took a step closer, and Thomas could swear there was a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He smiled. “You wanna dance?”

If Thomas had to choose a word: dangerous – in the best way. He felt the excitement from earlier trickle through him. Was it alcohol making him buzz now, or nerves? Who cared at this point? 

“Yeah.”

On the dance floor, bodies were everywhere but it somehow felt more intimate. They could get lost in the crowd. Kyle and Newt were the furthest things from his mind as he and Minho inched closer and closer. 

Their hands were tentative in their initial touches. There was something strange about going from avoiding contact to chasing it. He ran his hands up Minho’s arms as Minho dragged his down Thomas’s sides. He felt Minho grab the hem of his shirt on either side and was pulled closer. As Minho leaned in Thomas was reminded of that quiet confidence, and he was already breathless when soft lips pressed against his. 

Thomas let himself get lost in the sensation. The kiss was slow and deep, their tongues lightly brushing every so often. Thomas reached up and ran his fingers through black hair that was just as smooth as it looked; he grabbed a fistful of it tightly when Minho gently nipped at his bottom lip. 

Then Minho was grabbing his waist and turning him around. He held Thomas’s hips and firmly pulled him back again. Thomas gasped when he felt Minho, hard, against his jeans. He began grinding back in time with the music, shuddering as Minho nibbled his ear and kissed his neck. 

It was when Minho palmed him through his jeans – _fuck_ – that Thomas couldn’t stay there any longer. They needed a bed and privacy. Now. Turning enough so that he could be heard, Thomas asked, “My place?” 

He received another kiss as an answer.

_____

They took Thomas’s car since Minho had ridden with Newt. It was a short drive back to his apartment but they still couldn’t keep their hands to themselves; Thomas rubbed circles on Minho’s thigh while Minho massaged the back of Thomas’s neck. Thomas wondered if he could feel any goosebumps. 

“So you’ve never been with a guy?”

“No.” 

“That’s honestly so hot.”

“You better make this good,” Thomas joked, “you’re representing a lot of people.”

Minho laughed, pinching a little harder than before. “I’m not too worried.”

Thomas bit his lip. He was glad to be parking. 

As he locked the door to his apartment and turned on a light, Thomas was a little unsure of what to do next. He kicked his shoes and socks off by the door so Minho followed suit before walking curiously further. Do they go straight to the bedroom? Should he show him around?

“This is nice,” Minho said as he stood in the kitchen, “It’s so clean.”

“Thanks,” Thomas walked toward Minho, “I would offer a tour but you’ve pretty much seen everything once you step inside.” 

“Is that so?” Minho’s gaze purposefully raked down Thomas and back up, making Thomas feel naked already. He smiled knowingly. “I love when you blush.”

Of course, that only made it worse. Thomas grinned and went to give him a playful shove but Minho was a step ahead. He caught Thomas’s arms and pulled him close before crowding him against the wall. Thomas’s hands were in his hair before their lips even touched. 

Their mouths moved in a needier way than before, their hands bolder now that they were alone. Minho placed his leg between Thomas’s, and they both moaned when Thomas started grinding on his thigh. 

“You’re so sexy,” Minho crooned against his lips. Thomas kissed him again in response, sucking his tongue lightly, pleased at the low sound it drew. He felt hands leave his hips to reach down and suddenly Thomas was lifted, Minho pinning him against the wall so that Thomas had to wrap his legs around Minho’s waist. 

It was such a turn-on that Minho did that so easily. He rolled his hips forward and Thomas gasped, his head turning and tilting back against the wall. Minho took the opportunity to kiss along Thomas’s jaw line before biting down his neck. 

Thomas was only minimally embarrassed by the sighs escaping him. Girls were nice but girls had never made him feel quite like this. He loved it all: being moved around and handled without being asked like Minho already knew he would like it, Minho grinding into him like a sex toy, the idea of Minho fucking him like one – 

“Can I take you to your bedroom?” Minho asked, and Thomas could swear that he could hear the humor in his voice. He nodded, expecting to be put down, delighted when Minho backed up and carried him instead. 

Thomas reluctantly unhooked his ankles when he was placed on the bed. Minho paused before joining him to lift his shirt over his head and drop it on the floor. Thomas was too busy watching to do the same, leaning up on his elbows as though it helped him see more. Minho smirked as he crawled over Thomas,

“Your turn.”

Thomas let him tug his shirt up, his eyes on Minho and Minho’s following the rising fabric, drinking in every new inch of skin. When Thomas’s torso was finally bare, Minho’s gaze was enough to make him feel deliciously warm. But he wanted more. 

“Come here,” he said softly; Minho didn’t need to be told twice. They each voiced their satisfaction as Minho closed the space between them, settling between his legs and lighting a fire within Thomas from the contact. Their lips collided hungrily. His hands explored everywhere they could, Minho’s toned arms, his shoulders, his back. He could do this all night. 

He almost whined when Minho pulled away, nudging his head to the side so he could nibble along the shell of Thomas’s ear. Minho then lifted his body just enough so that he could reach down with one hand to undo Thomas’s jeans. Subconsciously, Thomas spread his legs a little wider, arousal rushing between them as his breath deepened. 

“Ah, fuck,” Thomas panted when Minho’s hand slid beneath his clothing to grip his cock. He felt Minho’s lips move against his ear as he spoke. 

“You’re so hard for me, Thomas,” he whispered as he tugged, “Am I making it good so far?”

Thomas moaned loudly, his toes curling. He answered by dragging his nails roughly down Minho’s back. 

“Fuck, yes,” Minho breathed, biting Thomas’s earlobe and squeezing harder. “Tell me what you want.” 

Thomas wanted a lot of things, but he really liked making Minho react like that. “Get naked.”

Minho backed off and they each scrambled to deposit the rest of their clothes in the floor. Thomas sat up, putting his hand on Minho’s shoulder to stop him when he started to come back to their former position. “Sit against the wall.”

As good as he was at leading, Minho took direction incredibly well. Thomas crawled toward him when he was settled, kissing him again briefly before moving downward. He trailed wet, open-mouth kisses down his neck, chest, stomach. Minho hummed appreciatively all the while. Thomas felt a little shy when he leaned down and took in the sight of his length. No wonder Minho was confident. 

“Thomas,” Minho said and he looked back up, “you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

At that, Thomas smiled. “I know.” He leaned down again and licked slowly from the base to the head, moaning himself when Minho hissed and placed his hands in his hair. 

Yeah, he liked this a lot.

Thomas did whatever he thought he would like and it seemed to work, if Minho’s moans were anything to go by. He teased for a bit, just licking the underside or only taking the head into his mouth. When he licked the slit, Minho’s hands tightened in his hair.

“God, Tommy…”

Thomas’s cock twitched, neglected, but he was enjoying this too much to care. He finally took as much as he could into his mouth, swallowing around Minho and basking in every sound he made. He wrapped his hand around the base and began moving it in time with his lips, keeping up a light suction that had Minho squirming. 

“Mmm, if you don’t stop soon I’m gonna cum,” Minho warned him, his voice deep and hot as hell if anyone asked Thomas. 

He hoped that his answering moan let Minho know that it was more than ok because it only made Thomas more eager. He went faster and sucked harder like it was his job; it wasn’t long before Minho was cursing as he came in Thomas’s mouth, chanting his name like a prayer.

Thomas swallowed as fast as he could. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand when he finally pulled away. Minho’s hands were soon on him again, pulling him up until somehow he was straddling Minho’s lap. Minho held him close as he kissed Thomas senseless. 

“You sure you’ve never done that before?” Minho asked as he took hold of Thomas’s cock again, which was aching with need by now. Thomas didn’t even answer, as dazed as he was. He just arched his back, breathless as he felt Minho smear his precum down his length as a substitute for lube. 

“Can I try something? You can say stop if you want,” Minho said. Thomas nodded, knowing that there was little he’d tell Minho no to. 

He watched Minho coat two of his fingers in saliva. He then reached around and began rubbing Thomas’s hole. Thomas gasped at the sensation. 

“Is this ok?”

“Yes,” Thomas said and closed his eyes, enjoying this new pleasure. Minho waited a bit before he pressed a finger against Thomas’s entrance, slowing starting to push in. Thomas couldn’t help but tense up, welcoming the distraction of Minho’s kiss. 

“Relax, baby,” Minho murmured. Thomas focused on their kiss, on Minho’s hand on his length. Minho was able to push inside him fairly quickly and began moving in and out slowly. It was uncomfortable at first, but Thomas kept his focus on relaxing, on all the sensations together. Soon it was like a switch was turned on. It felt very fucking good. 

“Fuck, Minho,” Thomas whined. Without thinking Thomas started rocking his hips, chasing the pleasure from both of Minho’s hands. 

Minho watched him intently, and after a beat Thomas groaned loudly when he felt a second finger added. He moved more deliberately, and Minho hardly had to move his hands at all. He kissed Thomas’s neck greedily. 

“You look so good, fucking yourself like that.”

Thomas would’ve blushed if there was any blood left to go to his cheeks. “You feel so good, Minho.”

“Yeah? Would you like fucking yourself on my cock, Tommy?” 

Thomas moaned, thinking about being stretched by Minho’s size. “Fuck yeah.” He felt the familiar pressure building in his core. “I’m so close.”

“Mmm,” Minho hummed before biting Thomas’s neck more harshly. He pumped Thomas faster and started moving his other hand to meet Thomas’s rocking. Thomas clung to Minho’s shoulders, his moans downright obscene. 

“That’s it, Thomas,” Minho encouraged him, “I wanna watch you cum for me. You gonna cum for me, baby?” 

“Minho, fuck, _fuck_ –” Thomas kept moving as he spilled over both of them. Minho kissed him deeply, swallowing his cries. When they finally pulled apart, Thomas’s breath was shaky and he wasn’t sure if he could move his legs anytime soon. 

They looked at each other, and after a moment Minho grinned. 

“That was fun.”

Thomas laughed. 

“So can I stay the night or do I need to call Newt?” 

Rolling his eyes, Thomas untangled himself. “I guess there’s room here.”

“Thank god. There’s no way Newt would answer his phone right now.” 

Thomas was sure the sun was coming up soon by the time they got into bed after cleaning up, though he hadn’t bothered checking his phone for the time. He was lying on his side, Minho spooning him from behind, his arm draped over Thomas.

In the pleasant moments before falling asleep, Thomas felt more peaceful than he had in a long time. 

______

The next morning, Thomas was drinking coffee when Minho stumbled out of the bedroom in his boxers. 

“What time is it?”

“Eleven. Coffee?”

“No, thanks. Water?”

“There’s bottles in the fridge.”

Minho laughed as he went to grab one. “You _would_ have bottled waters.”

Thomas grinned and playfully elbowed his arm. “I don’t like it unfiltered.”

Minho took a drink before giving Thomas a pointed look. “You seemed pretty unfiltered last night.”

Thomas’s mouth dropped, much to Minho’s amusement. He leaned over to kiss Thomas’s cheek. “You’re very cute.”

His heart skipped a beat. Thomas hadn’t actually thought beyond what would happen if they ever slept together, but now that they were here he didn’t want it to stop. 

“So I kind of feel bad for last night,” Minho said suddenly. 

“Why?” Thomas asked as he leaned against the counter. 

“Because,” he paused and ran a hand through his hair like he had the night before at Tempt. Thomas realized it must be a nervous tick and tried not to smile. “I really did want to ask you out.”

“So?” Thomas let himself smile now. “What’s stopping you?”

A shy smile played on Minho’s lips. “Do you want to go out sometime?”

“Sure.”

“When are you free?”

“I would say today, but I don’t want to sound desperate.”

“Today is perfect.”

______

After they showered together at Thomas’s place (which admittedly slowed them down), they went to Minho’s house so that he could change into clean clothes before they went to eat. 

Inside, Thomas waited in the living room. It was way more cluttered than his apartment, but that was bound to happen with three guys living together. 

“Minho, was that you I heard…?” Thomas turned to see Newt emerge from a room. His face lit up when he saw Thomas.

“ _Tommy_! Did you have a good night?”

Thomas nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I’m just waiting on Minho now.”

On cue, Minho appeared from the other side of the room. Newt looked at them with a knowing smile. 

“I’m glad you two finally hit it off.”

“We did,” Minho took Thomas’s hand and began walking toward the door, “and now we’re leaving!”

“You’re welcome!” Newt called, and Thomas couldn’t help but laugh as they left. 

______

They spent the day together, and if Thomas had to choose a word: amazing. Everything was natural and just _felt_ right. Minho bought lunch and later, at the apartment, Thomas ordered takeout. 

“I’m glad you sat beside me in class,” Thomas commented as they lied together in bed that night on their sides, facing each other. Minho had just given him one of the best blowjobs of his life.

“Me too,” Minho said as their legs entwined, “you really needed help with your grade.”

They laughed. Minho cupped Thomas’s cheek with his hand. 

“But really, you have beautiful eyes. And I’m not just saying that to be cliché.”

Thomas smiled, enjoying the feeling of fingers brushing his hair back. “You think?”

“Yeah. When I walked in, I saw you looking at the snow. You were beautiful. And I wanted to know you.”

Thomas leaned forward and gave him a slow, sweet kiss. 

“And now you do,” Thomas said softly when he laid his head down again. 

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, smiling too, “now I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Again, I would really appreciate feedback. Even prompts? It was fun writing these two.


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